


Destiel: Where The Horizon Ends SEQUEL

by AnimeKat3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AUswitchingchapters previouscharacterdeath, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimeKat3/pseuds/AnimeKat3
Summary: If you haven't read the first, do that. XDTo the rest of you who have, this will alternate universes for each chapter. I'll explain more in the book. Enjoy!





	Destiel: Where The Horizon Ends SEQUEL

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this chapter takes place after Castiel's death but the next will be about what would have happened if he was still alive.

Dean sat at the small table of his familiar kitchen, freshly graduated from High School. He glanced across the counter at the basket of apples and bananas. They’d all gone rotten, and fruit flies had gathered around them. The house itself he’d known for years, (after all, he’d been there his entire life). 

But it no longer felt like home. 

During his senior year of High School, he’d managed to live normally despite losing his soulmate the year before. Everything had turned black and white, so he couldn’t tell the difference between the green and red apples. 

He looked over one on his palm, holding it out in front of him. It was mushy, and it wouldn’t be any good to eat, but there wasn’t anything else in the house TO eat. 

Dean’s brother Sam would be home anytime. He’d gone for the first week of summer to Gabriel’s house and hadn’t remembered to text Dean once the entire time he was gone. Now that he’d be back, Dean knew he should probably clean the house up a little. 

He sighed, throwing the apple into the trash can. He threw the entire basket of rotten fruits away, tossing a few cans of soda there too. As he went into the living room, or rather; sulking room, he noticed several beer bottles lying on the side tables and the floor. There was trash all over the place. It hadn’t been this clear to him before, but it got him thinking… he was just like his father. 

Down to the very last beer bottle. 

Dean was disgusted in himself. He picked the beer bottles up and threw them into the trash, letting them shatter into pieces. Every damn piece of trash got thrown into the bin, and after it had filled, he took it away. He wasn’t going to become his father. 

Sam unlocked the door and walked in, smelling the air. He was definitely smarter than Dean despite being younger and knew immediately what was going on. “Hey, Dean, I’m home!” He set his bags down at the door and slid the shoes off his feet. 

“The house hasn’t looked like this since… since Dad was here.” Sam noted, grabbing a bottle of air freshener from the bathroom. He sprayed it around the house, spinning in circles, until he reached the bathroom again. He went to put the spray bottle back into the cabinet about the sink, but didn’t like what he saw when he looked down. 

“Dean, what’s this?” 

Sam picked it up and walked into the kitchen where Dean surveyed the dirty dishes. There weren’t many, mostly because he hadn’t eaten much food that week. Sam stood in the doorway, holding a blade in his fingers. His face was pure concern, not anger nor sadness.

“That’s, uhm…” Dean trailed off, trying to come up with some half-assed excuse to tell his brother. Instead, his instincts told him to shelter the truth. To become the monster he always knew he’d been. His eyes narrowed as he walked over to Sam and snatched the blade from his hands. “That’s none of your damn business.” 

Sam sighed and went into the bathroom, getting a washrag because he knew he wasn’t physically strong enough to take it back from his brother. He cleaned up the blood around the sink and tossed the washrag into the laundry room. He was smart enough to recognize all the signs. There were barely any dishes, and there wasn’t any laundry… Sam slowly checked the tub, which looked the exact same as it did before he left eight days previous. “Listen, Dean, I think it is my business. You’re my brother.” He checked Dean’s room next. The bed was the only thing that looked recently disturbed, since its covers were spread across the surface. “I care about you. You’ve barely eaten, you haven’t kept yourself clean... What’s going on, Dean?” 

“Didn’t I tell you it isn’t your damn business?” 

The anger in Dean’s voice frightened Sam. He hadn’t gotten that feeling since John last beat Dean in front of him out on the porch. He immediately felt the need to call Bobby, who had been vacationing down in Florida with Ellen and Jo. Sam and Dean had been offered to go, but both denied (however, only Sam had been polite about it). “Leave me alone.” Dean added, retreating to his room. 

Sam stood rooted to the spot, dialing Bobby’s number with a frown.

“What?” Bobby answered irritably. 

“It’s Dean. Something’s wrong with him.” Sam sighed and watched Dean close the door behind him.

“What kind of wrong, boy?” 

“I mean, like…” Sam took a huge breath, because he didn’t think he’d ever have to think of it. “Dean’s turning into Dad. When I got here, it reeked of beer and sweat. He’s starving himself, not showering… Bobby, I found a bloody razor.” 

Bobby nodded, though Sam couldn’t see him. He didn’t know what to say that would make Sam feel better. There wasn’t really anything. “Do you know why he’d be acting like this?” 

“Well, he’s seein’ black and white, ain’t he?” Bobby asked, Sam replying with a mumbled yes. “That boy, Cassiel-”

“Castiel,” Sam corrected bitterly. 

“Right. He’s been gone for over a year now. Dean’s a smart kid. He knows he’ll never have a soulmate. I dunno about you, but I’d be pretty damn upset.”

“Upset?” Sam asked, dumbfounded at the man’s words. He knew that Dean wasn’t just upset. Dean had fallen into depression and Sam wasn’t sure how to pull his brother out. He needed to find someone, or something… Maybe there were other people who have lost their soulmates, or someone who doesn’t have one? Surely there’d be someone for Dean? But deep in his heart, Sam knew that his brother would never move on to choose someone else. It was absolutely pointless to try looking. 

“Yep. Listen, Sam, I care about your brother. I do. But I haven’t felt this good for twenty years. I ain’t leaving. He’s just goin’ through a phase. It’ll be over in a few days.” Bobby was growing even more irritated by the second. It didn’t seem important to him, but that was only because he wasn’t seeing what Sam saw. He couldn’t possibly understand, either, because he hadn’t been John’s son. He didn’t know what it was like. 

“Yeah, okay, Bobby… If you say so.” 

“Call me if it gets any worse. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.” Bobby replied, ending the line. 

Sam threw his phone down at the couch and approached Dean’s door. He knocked a few times and took a step back, the way girl scouts do at an odd-looking house. 

“Go away.” 

Sam furrowed his eyebrows and knocked again, harder this time. 

“Agh, Sammy, I said leave me alone.” 

Sam shook his head and knocked even harder; Dean opening the door at mid-knock. “Go shower. Right now.” Sam growled, his eyes burning with fire. Dean trudged through the living room to the bathroom. He turned on the water, watching it flow into the bathtub. Sam had brought a fresh change of clothes and a towel into the bathroom, setting them down as he poured soap into the water. 

“Do you miss Castiel? Is that what this is about?” 

Sam’s question broke the silence. Dean hadn’t heard the name for months and it stirred within him. Yes, that was the reason. He was missing his soulmate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Damn it, Dean… You cannot continue to torture yourself. Don't lie to me; I saw the look in your eyes at the funeral. You can't even match your clothes.” 

“That's because I can't see colors,” Dean retorted. “I haven't for a whole year.” 

“That would mess up anyone. You seemed fine in school, Dean… What the hell happened this week?”

“Sam, you can leave now. I’m not going to do anything.” Dean didn’t want to take off his clothes with his brother in the room. He also wasn't in the mood to deal with his problems face first. 

“Fine.” Sam left without another word and went into the kitchen, searching every last cabinet for some food to eat. 

Dean let the water drip down his back. He imagined Castiel sitting across him, with that calm resourceful look on his face. “I love you,” Dean murmured to the hallucination. “I miss you.” 

“Don't be silly, Dean, you saw me yesterday.” Castiel responded, balancing his head on his right hand. He watched Dean's eyes soften as his hands combed through the bubbles. 

“Yeah, but not really,” Dean sighed into the bubbles. 

“Dean, listen,” Castiel began awkwardly, “I know you blame yourself for my death. But there isn't anything you could have done.” 

“No, Cas! You died thinking I killed you.” Castiel splashed water at Dean’s face. It was just his imagination. There was nothing he could do to make up for what had happened, he knew that… but he still carried the guilt. 

“But you proved to me that you didn’t,” Castiel chirped happily. Dean shook his head in disagreement and started washing his hair. “But you’re not real, so technically..” 

“Since when do you care about technicalities?” 

Dean paused a let out a long sigh. “I wish you were actually here. Did I ever tell you what I went out to get that night?” 

Castiel nonchalantly shook his head a few times for good measure. “No, I don't think so.” 

“I went to get-” 

Dean's mind filled with memories of the night of the dance. He believed it was those memories which faded Castiel's memory so quickly. He didn't finish his sentence because Castiel was gone. 

Dean finished his shower and dried himself off, already missing his soulmate. If Sam had known, or rather, if everyone had known the things he saw… he’d be sent to a mental asylum. As he thought about it, though, he decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing. He’d get to see Castiel all the time and no one would try to stop him. He wouldn’t have to take care of himself either. The only problem was, they might put him on medication to stop his hallucinations. With his already weak mind connection to Castiel, he didn’t think he could handle medicine. 

“Dean, you smell a lot better now!” Sam laughed, patting Dean’s wet hair. Dean couldn’t smile, even though he’d done it countless times before. 

“Y’know, Dean, there isn't any food here. I think it would do us both some good to get away from this place. I'm sure I could get Gabe to let us stay over there for a little bit.” Sam honestly still hated the look of the place and had been getting flashbacks of his father ever since he stepped foot into it. He was not about to let Dean become a depressed alcoholic, anyways. Being at the Novak’s might prove to be a little better than he'd originally planned because Dean would feel more at home there. 

Sam suddenly remembered a quote from a romance book he'd been forced to read by his friend Jess. He twisted the quote a little in his mind so he could apply it to the situation. Home isn't always a place; sometimes it's a person. And Dean's person was gone, which meant that he didn't have a home. 

It would definitely be a good idea to get Dean to stay with the Novaks. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean mumbled, throwing the towel to the ground. He didn't object because he had already wanted to go there. He wondered if the spiritual connection they shared would be strengthened if Dean lived where Castiel used to. The Novaks’ house was big enough for three dozen people. Surely it'd be okay for the Winchesters to spend the summer there? 

“Great! I'll call him now. Go pack your bags.” Sam dialed his soulmate’s phone number and walked into another room. 

Dean threw a few shirts and some shorts into his duffle bag. He tossed some of his hunting supplies there, too, just in case they ever came across something. 

Sooner rather than later the Winchesters were both in the Impala, with Sam in the driver seat. You know something's definitely wrong when Dean lets me drive, Sam thought awkwardly. He assured his brother that he knew where to go amd Dean had thrown him the keys without hesitation.

Turns out, the Novaks’ house was about thirty minutes away in a town called Haven. Dean was pretty sure the town was named after Heaven because of its sacred beauty and he took note of said beauty with Castiel in mind the whole way through town. Dean thought about asking how much longer they had until they found the right house but stayed silent, gripping the knife in his pocket. 

Sam pulled into the driveway of a huge, white house with a white picket fence and a bright green lawn. Dean thought it looked beautiful. There seemed to be a pool out back, along with a smaller storage building and a lot of open yard area. Castiel was lucky to have had such a house. 

“Alright, Dean, we're here. I suggest acting happier, for the sake of your judgement,” Sam warned his older brother. 

Dean didn't really care what the Novaks thought of him. He was simply there to test Castiel's memory and strengthen his ability to see his soulmate. 

When Sam knocked on the door, a man with black hair and a tall, lean frame answered immediately. “Hello, Michael. Thank you for allowing us to stay for the summer. We both appreciate it very much, don't we, Dean?” 

Dean hadn't been paying attention until his name had been spoken. “Err...uhm… yeah. Appreciate it. A lot.” He wasn't very convincing to any of the Novak brothers but he was too busy exploring the house to care. His immediate thought was why hadn't Castiel ever invited him to stay?

He shook the thought and strolled into the kitchen where a few girls were rolling dough out onto the table. He didn't know Castiel had any sisters. He could probably flirt with them if he gave it a shot but he wasn't in the mood to do anything. “Dean, it's a pleasure to see you,” Uriel welcomed him from behind. Dean instinctively turned around with a devilish look in his eye. “Why don't you follow me to the guest sleeping quarters?” 

Dean nodded and let out a long breath of relief. “This will be your room,” Uriel opened the door and gestured for Dean to walk inside. It was spacious and ill decorated, but it had a bed in the corner and a television atop a brown dresser. For now, that would have to be enough. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Uriel paused briefly to observe Dean before exiting the room. Dean wondered how much his suffering had been compared to theirs. He desperately wanted a beer and assumed the older Novak brothers wouldn't let him have one. If they were anything like Castiel, (and highly religious?) they liked to follow the rules.

“Do you- do you have anything to drink?” Dean asked quietly, hoping Uriel would know what he meant. He nodded and said, “you may visit the kitchen anytime, Dean. I only ask that you do not drink anything alcoholic.” Dean did not respond and dismissed the older Novak with the flick of his wrist.

He laid down on the bed, turning on the TV with a nearby remote. Clicking through channels kept him awake for a while until he’d seen every option. Nothing looked even remotely interesting, so he closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

A few hours later, someone began knocking in his door. “We're going for a walk, you should come with us, Dean…” 

It was Sam. “No, thanks,” Dean groaned, rolling over onto his other side. Sam sighed and didn't bother asking again, which was disappointing because Dean had been wanting him to. 

Finally, after he was positive everyone had left the house, he crept to the kitchen for a beer. He opened the fridge and took one, gulping it down. It tasted bitter but Dean eagerly grabbed another and gulped it down too. He grabbed a few more, but not enough to get him drunk. Then he wandered around the house, looking at the handles of every door. Some had gathered dust, and some hadn't. Almost every door down the hallway in the back of the house had gathered dust except one, which held a handprint. 

Dean hesitantly opened the door, blinking as he walked inside. Immediately he knew whose room this was. Or had been. “Cas,” Dean exhaled, breathing in his unmistakable scent. 

It looked untouched although Dean never had the pleasure to see it before. Dean sat down on the floor beside the bed and rested his forearms on his knees. “Please, come back…” And indeed he did, but this time, Dean couldn't see him due to the alcohol in his system. Castiel's hands traced around Dean's palms and moved them toward the underside of the bed. Dean was too tired and buzzed to realize he wasn't the one moving his own hands. 

But when he felt a cardboard box, he reached out for it and pulled. “What's this?” He asked, partially to Castiel and partly to himself. 

Dean threw the top of the box aside and sifted through the box’s contents. Inside were several letters enclosed in crisp envelopes almost all addressed differently. 

The letters read to My Future Self, to My Future Kids, to My Soulmate, to My Past Self, to No One, to Me, to My Family, and to Dean Winchester. 

Dean tried to decide which to open first and took a deep breath, picking up the one addressed to him. 

Castiel sat peacefully beside him and watched as Dean opened his letter slowly. His eyes narrowed as Dean began reading.

Dean Winchester,

I'm so lucky to have met you. . . .


End file.
